e'll forget all about this baseball
foolishness. Better come along."

"I thank you for your good intentions, Mr. Baldwin," replied McCarthy
quietly, "but it is impossible. In the first place, the plan you
suggest would be about the worst possible--and more important than
that, I can't quit the team until it wins the pennant."

"Now we're getting down to cases, my boy," said Baldwin, smoking
easily. "I want you to go, for your own sake, but I also want you to
go because I don't want the Bears to win that pennant. They haven't
treated you right, and they can't blame you if you quit."

"You want me to throw the pennant race?" demanded McCarthy angrily.
"That's why you want me to leave the team, is it? I'll see you in
h---- first--I'm in bad with the manager--but I won't quit the team."

"Now, now, my boy," interrupted Baldwin soothingly. "Take a sensible
view of it. It's for the best interests of all concerned. It don't
mean anything to you if you run back home, square yourself with the
family--and quit interfering with our plans."

"You're a crook, Baldwin," said the third baseman threateningly. "My
uncle, James Lawrence, always said you were a crook and a thief, and
now I know it. I wouldn't quit now for all his money and all yours
together. I'll stick to the team and we'll win this pennant in spite
of you and your rotten gang."

The effect of his words caused him to stop in surprise and alarm. The
big man, who had been sipping his wine, suddenly grew apoplectic and
sat staring at him. Baldwin stared at the slender youth as if at a
ghost. Suddenly he lurched forward as if to arise, and emitted a
torrent of oaths.

[Illustration: Baldwin stared at the slender youth]

"You Jim Lawrence's nephew?" he half screamed. "You his boy? Well, by
----, I'll break you. I'll fix you--I'll"----

He pitched forward as if in a fit, and McCarthy, after ringing for
assistance, waited until the house physician had revived the big man,
then hurried back to his hotel, puzzled and excited and vaguely alarmed
over the developments of the evening.

Swanson was not yet in the room.

CHAPTER XIII

_McCarthy Balks the Plotters_

It was past two o'clock when McCarthy was awakened from his troubled
sleep by the entrance of Swanson.

"Hello, Silent," said McCarthy sleepily. "What time is it?"

"Past two," said the shortstop, for once seeming unwilling to talk.
"Better get to sleep--you'll be in again to-day."